


And I'm Honestly Feeling So Hacked Right Now

by smokeopossum



Series: Trans Trio [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Assisted Blowjob, Edging, Exhibitionism, F/F, Hacking, I think that's enough tags, Masturbation, Mild Domination, Mild Humiliation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/F, Trans Female Character, Voyeurism, consensual voyeurism, i guess you could say sombra's translocator is working real well, safe sex, these hands are only capable of creating filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeopossum/pseuds/smokeopossum
Summary: "I found the IT department."Widowmaker's voice crackled through the communicator, impatient and frosty. Sombra brought up the live video feed, smirking as she saw through the visor's lenses to the sad looking rows of cubicles making up the department."So you have.Ifound your little video stash,arañita."





	And I'm Honestly Feeling So Hacked Right Now

**Author's Note:**

> wew lads another one out the door
> 
> here's your warning: don't be transphobic & think before you write to avoid sounding ignorant!! thanks!!!!
> 
> there's some spanish and french in here, but it's small stuff so i won't bother with translations. use context/google if you need help
> 
> also hey frembly remembly that if you want to support me and my writing, you can find out how on [my tumblr!](http://smokeopossum.tumblr.com/) i really really appreciate all of my current donors!!!! special privs include a discord invite to talk with me, your best possum pal, directly! you can also get to participate in a monthly patron poll for a small work i write just for patreon! you ALSO also get to see my list of wips, with Special Chums getting sneak previews of the stuff i've got in progress! sorry for the exclamation marks but i'm really excited about people wanting to give me money!
> 
> big big shoutouts to my gf, [Nox,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheut/pseuds/Nox) and BigAss69 for their help with beta reading

Another mission - successful, despite Sombra's best attempts at distracting her. No one died, unfortunately, but it was completed all the same, and Talon could sink their claws into the newly hacked Vishkar database at its leisure.

It was probably the worst successful mission Widowmaker had ever been on, she mused on the way back.

 _Quelle surprise_ , Sombra had "forgotten" to disable the security locks of the roof access door before they landed, leaving them crouching in the shadows as her hands glowed a soft purple against it. An intentional waste of time, if Sombra's smug smile meant anything. Always looking to show off.

"One second, chica. Keep an eye out for trouble while I work my magic." The wink she shot Widowmaker was met with a scowl before her visor slid over her eyes, red lenses glowing dully as she kept watch.

No heat signatures besides their own and those of the guards several stories down. Good.

The door's mechanisms gave a soft click as Sombra forced the locks to recognize her spoofed credentials. They slid inside soundlessly, door shutting behind them, and quickly slipped down the emergency stairwell to the top floor.

"You have deactivated the alarms this time, no? We do not need another Volskaya repeat," Widowmaker whispered, heading towards the office of the high-ranking employee they had been instructed to target.

"Relax, I took care of it," Sombra said with a roll of her eyes. She had fully disabled the security systems for once - sentry turrets gazed sightlessly past them, motion detectors blind to their movements - they were effectively invisible. Getting caught didn’t fit into Sombra’s ulterior motives this time.

They made their way to the target office easily. Sombra took a seat at the desk, grinning as she brought up her purple holo-vid windows and tapped away at the computer while Widowmaker stood watch, impatiently crossing her arms. When the smile slid off Sombra's face, she narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

"It's not here.”

"What do you _mean_ it's not here, you're looking right at it."

Sombra gave an irritated sigh. "There's an email from earlier that our crawler didn't catch before we left - they moved the tower with the rest of the information to the IT department. This pendejo was looking at porn and downloaded a virus onto it, and got this as a temporary replacement while the other is down in IT, a.k.a it isn't hooked up to the network any longer. You need to go find it while I run the subroutines I can from here."

Widowmaker stonily stared in silence, jaw clenching as Sombra looked sweetly up at her.

"Sorry, mija, but it shouldn't be hard. IT department is four floors down, guards aren't stationed anywhere near it right now. All you have to do is find the tower, turn it on, and insert this for a minute," she lifted a usb drive and offered it to her, "and we can leave. Easy."

Widowmaker plucked the usb drive from her fingers, grimacing. "How will I know which tower it is?"

Sombra's grin returned in full force. "Let me into that pretty headset of yours and you won't even have to worry about it."

Possibly the best worst mistake Widowmaker could make, but all she wanted was to see this mission finished quickly. She barely even thought about it.

"Fine."

Sombra lit up, brushing aside the glowing screens surrounding her to let thin purple tendrils curl around Widowmaker's visor. Widowmaker frowned as one brushed against her cheek. "Unnecessary," she hissed, already beginning to feel as if she’d regret it.

Sombra only smiled in return, pulling back with satisfaction as the lenses glowed purple.

"Alright, vamos. Let me know when you get down there and I'll tell you where you can stick it." Her eyebrows bounced suggestively. The innuendo was not lost on Widowmaker, who simply gave her an unamused look before turning her back on her and leaving the office.

With Widowmaker gone, Sombra returned to her work. Although the specific files Talon sought weren't on this particular machine, it still had access to the Vishkar database, leaving her free to insert her own code into it to gain remote control.

As she typed, she brought up a few more holo-vid panels, one of which came directly from Widowmaker's visor storage. A folder with an unusually vague name caught her eye and curiosity got the better of her - she had time to poke around Widowmaker's personal files while the code uploaded.

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't what she found.

She didn't think Widowmaker even HAD a libido, much less one stoked by enemy agents. She stifled a giggle as she looked through what seemed to be hours of footage involving a familiar cheerful, spandex-clad ass. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when another video revealed a familiar sniper’s hands on that spandex-clad ass, lifting to her hairline the deeper she delved.

Interesting.

 _"I found_ _the IT department."_

Widowmaker's voice crackled through the communicator, impatient and frosty. Sombra brought up the live video feed, smirking as she saw through the visor's lenses to the sad looking rows of cubicles making up the department.

"So you have. _I_ found your little video stash, _arañita_."

The line went silent. She didn't even hear Widowmaker breathe, the video itself seemed frozen, until--

 _"_ **_Where is the tower, Sombra."_ **

Sombra didn't bother to hide her laugh. "It should be glowing purple."

The feed swung around until Widowmaker spotted the appropriately glowing desk, quietly turned on the tower on top of it, and slid the drive into its port.

_"Now what."_

"Now _you_ wait for me to finish with things. The tower is booting up. It will take a minute for the worm to work through it and copy the files, so relax. When I give you the signal, you can take the drive out and come back up. I told you, easy."

Widowmaker didn't respond. Unfortunately for her, Sombra doesn't do well with silence, especially when there’s opportunity to tease.

"… So, Tracer, hm? Never thought she'd be your type, too cute and perky. You know, in another life, you could have been a photographer with how well some of those shots came out--"

_"Is that the signal, Sombra, or have you decided to torture me for your amusement?"_

"Just making conversation. With how big this folder is, I thought you would be more chatty about tu novia."

 _"She’s_ **_not_ ** _my girlfriend."_

"Fuckbuddy, whatever. I don't judge." She checked the progress of her upload with a dismissive wave of her hand, despite knowing Widowmaker couldn't see the action.

_"She is not my-- Sombra is this finished yet?"_

Sombra giggled, watching the uptick in Widowmaker's heart rate with interest. Her visor seemed to have a few more interesting features than she first thought.

"Not yet amiga. And for someone supposedly not dating her, you sure have a lot of pictures of her ass. Does she know about these?” Sombra asked, flicking through the images with interest. Some of them revealed _much_ more than just Tracer’s ass through a scope.

Widowmaker's response was to lift her middle finger to the lenses of her helmet.

"... You know it just looks like you're flipping yourself off alone in an office building, right? You look crazy."

Her frustrated growl brought a smile to Sombra’s face.

_“So, you’re blackmailing me? For what? I have nothing."_

“Hardly,” Sombra scoffed. “I only blackmail people I can use. But we’re friends, so I want to help you out and teach you how to hide your shit. I can’t be the only person who wants to snoop through your files. Someone with stronger allegiances to Talon might bust you.”

“ _What are you saying?”_

“Look, I’ll zip this up for you right now and then give you a crash course on encrypting your _pornografia_ on the way back. We don’t have time now, the code’s almost finished.” Sombra glanced over at the upload. 94%.

“... Yeah, we’re basically done here. Give it another second and I’ll meet you on the roof. Make sure to bring your thinking cap, amiga, because school will be in session.”

She won’t say she didn’t deserve the frosty glare Widowmaker met her with when they met back up on the roof, but it melted away into curiosity once she showed her the newly hidden folder.

“... And in case something ever _happens_ to the contents of it, I made you backups.”

“How kind,” Widowmaker droned, visor sliding back into place above her head as they boarded the ship.

Two hours and a thorough lecture on encryption later, the two Talon operatives found themselves with time to kill on their way back. Sombra broke the silence, as she always did, and turned her chair to Widowmaker’s with a sly smile.

“So. You have a lot of footage of the two of you together. Something to help keep you warm on lonely nights?”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes. “I don’t feel the cold. They are... souvenirs.”

“It’s an expression. But right, right. I can understand that.” Sombra looked over her fluorescent nails casually. “So how long have you been keeping _souvenirs,_ amiga? Is it a serious thing you’ve got going or are you two keeping it casual? How do you even get away to meet up?”

Widowmaker let out an irritated noise, not quite a growl, but responded nonetheless. “Eight months, ten if you count the time spent before we became involved. Other partners have not come up. And I take advantage of the downtime between missions - Talon does not know how I spend my time as long as I keep my things in storage, and you of all people should know how simple it is to handle things anonymously. Lena takes care of anything that needs to be done in person.”

Sombra let out a low whistle of surprise. She might not know how to encrypt her personal files, but Widowmaker obviously figured out how to keep her personal business quiet. She leaned back in her chair with a smug grin. _“Lena,_ huh?”

Widowmaker pursed her lips. Sombra thought she might have seen a hint of violet on her cheeks, but if there was, it was gone immediately. She leisurely spun in her chair and let the silence grow as she thought of how to broach the next topic.

“... So you like to watch. _I_ like to watch. Maybe sometime I could watch _you?_ ”

Widowmaker slowly turned to stare at her, unblinking.

“What.”

Sombra sat up, grinning widely as she faced Widowmaker. “I want to watch. You individually, or the both of you if you feel like sharing.”

“Was getting an eyeful of my personal files not enough ‘watching’ for you, Sombra?”

At that, Sombra took her turn to roll her eyes. “You know it’s not the same. I want to hear you moan for _me,_ bonita. Live and in person. A request, from one friend to another.”

“What else?”

“Nothing else, you don’t even have to let me touch. I just want to watch. And maybe jerk off a little, you know.” She shrugged, reclining in her chair once more. Widowmaker made a noncommittal hum as her brows drew together thoughtfully.

“... I will talk to her,” she finally murmured as their ship began to approach the headquarters. Sombra grinned, already unbuckling her seatbelt.

“No promises,” Widowmaker reminded her as they exited the ship into the hangar.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

* * *

 

A month passed before Sombra received any indication that Widowmaker remembered their conversation - a note with a location and date was slipped under her door one morning, followed by the sound of heels briskly clicking down the hall.

 _London this Friday, huh? ‘Show up or miss out’. Maybe she decided to share after all,_ Sombra thought as she destroyed the note.

The address, upon investigation, led to a comfortable flat supposedly for sale - a single bedroom, a small kitchen, a small bathroom. It looked lived in but clean, judging from the pictures Sombra found online, which she confirmed in person when she arrived that Friday.

She might have been a little early.

A sweep of the entire building reveals it to be entirely empty, the door to the apartment unlocked. She enters and makes herself comfortable, poking around the fridge while she waits.

She almost drops the water bottle she had liberated from the fridge when she turns to find Widowmaker leaning against the counter and staring boredly at her, in clothing one could charitably consider casual. The crisp blouse and leather pants were certainly more socially appropriate than the catsuit she wore on missions, at least.

 _“Hola, chica,"_ Sombra says when she regains her composure, familiar smirk settling onto her lips. “All dressed up for me?”

 _“Non,”_ Widowmaker replies, critically eyeing the crop top and cuffed pants Sombra has on. “I will go over the ground rules while we wait for Lena.”

Sombra’s brows lift curiously, but she can’t say she wasn’t expecting the brusque tone. She nods and takes a sip from her water as Widowmaker begins speaking.

“Nothing you learn today goes to Talon. You will not touch anything - not me, not her, not yourself - without my saying so. You will sit and watch, _quietly._  If you cannot keep quiet, I will gag you. If you cannot stop from touching yourself, I will restrain you.”

“When you put it that way, you make a case for being obnoxious just for the rewards.”

Widowmaker’s eyes narrow, but before she can say anything, they’re interrupted.

“Party hasn’t started yet, has it?” a cheerful voice calls from the doorway, a familiar head of spiky brown hair poking into the entryway. The rest of her follows as the door shuts behind her, and Sombra notes the distinct lack of a bulky accelerator over Tracer’s chest. She’s carrying a backpack over her standard bomber jacket though, one which Sombra can feel hum with the device’s usual wavelength. A quick, covert scan of the bag reveals it swirling with energy as she suspected.

_Interesting._

Widowmaker gives Sombra one last warning glare before turning to greet Tracer, face imperceptibly softening at the sight of her.

“Non, cherie. I was simply informing Sombra of the rules for tonight.”

Tracer flashes her a smile and presses a swift peck to her cheek as she joins them in the kitchen, then shoots a mildly irritated scowl at Sombra as she briefly removes the bag to shrug out of her jacket and lay it on the counter.

“She’ll keep her thievin’ mitts to herself then, yeah?”

Apparently she’s still not forgiven for that teeny, tiny, eensy little breach in Overwatch security that got her the blueprints she repurposed for her translocator. Not that she had ever apologized.

Sombra rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “I get it. Sorry about it or whatever. Are we doing this in the kitchen or are you done threatening me so we can move it to the bedroom?”

Tracer childishly sticks her tongue out as she picks the bag back up and Sombra sees Widowmaker’s face crack into something resembling a smile for the first time. A pale blue hand slips up to cup the back of Tracer’s neck, steering her out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom without another word, Widowmaker only shooting an expectant glance at Sombra to follow.

The bedroom looks roughly the same as the photos of it online suggested it would: the Union Jack sheets are just as tacky if not more tightly made, there’s a wooden dining chair facing the bed, and the blinds are drawn to hide the room from any prying eyes, but otherwise it’s picture perfect.

“Sit,” Widowmaker commands, and both smaller women take seats immediately - Tracer on the side of the bed, Sombra on the chair. Her lips curl into a smirk at their obedience. She stands in front of Tracer and reaches out to grip her chin, tilting her face up to meet her eyes.

“So pretty. Remove your top, s’il te plait.”

Tracer’s eyes dart over to Sombra, currently watching with a smirk of her own, before sliding back to Widowmaker’s. She doesn’t argue even as her cheeks flush, shrugging off the backpack and setting it aside before tugging her thin white shirt over her head in one smooth motion and leaving herself topless. Two sets of interested eyes drag over her now bare chest, nipples hardening under their attention.

Widowmaker purrs her approval, reaching out to trail a finger down the hollow of Tracer’s throat as she kneels onto the bed and straddles her lap. Cool hands settle on tanned, freckled shoulders, gently kneading as she leans down to press her lips to hers. Tracer sighs gladly into the kiss, her own hands rising to squeeze at Widowmaker’s hips as she lets herself be pressed onto her back.

Sombra slowly starts to warm as she watches them lie on the bed for her benefit, shifting in her seat as she sees their mouths open. She bites her lip at the sight of their tongues wetly petting against one another, at Widowmaker’s hands slipping down Tracer’s chest to cup and knead at her small breasts, at Tracer’s hands sliding to grope at Widowmaker’s wide ass over the tight leather. Her own hand soundlessly drifts to her thigh, stroking over the soft material of her pants.

Golden eyes flash and their mouths part.

“Hands at your sides,” Widowmaker growls out as she pinches at a stiff nipple. Tracer squeaks underneath her. “I said no touching.”

Sombra opens her mouth to argue, but her voice leaves her at the glare Widow gives her. Her hands obediently fall to the sides of the chair, nails clicking against the polished wooden frame.

Satisfied, Widowmaker returns her attention to Tracer once again, mouthing down her jaw and neck as she rolls her hips down against hers. Tracer quietly groans, submissively exposing her neck further and rocking up into her. A cool tongue licks up her throat before teeth follow the trail with bites, pausing at the rapid flutter of her pulse to suck sharply. A whimper escapes the smaller girl, her eyes clenching shut as her lover marks her for the first, but surely not the last, time that evening.

Widowmaker pulls away with a pleased smile at the deep red splotch and softly thumbs over her nipples. “ _Ma belle amour,_ ” she whispers, leaning back down to nuzzle at her ear and enjoy the red creeping into her cheeks. “Do you like having an audience, Lena?” she asks, petting down her side.

“Yes,” comes the quiet response, light brown eyes fluttering open to stare at Sombra.

“Yes _what_ ,” Widowmaker prompts with another heavy roll of her hips. Lena sucks in a sharp gasp and wets her lips.

“Yes, I like having an audience.”

Sombra huffs quietly and grips tightly at the seat to keep her hands from herself, feeling herself twitch at Tracer’s compliance and the obvious desire in her eyes as they meet hers.

“Good girl,” Widowmaker says with a fond smile, reaching lower to lightly drag her nails up Tracer’s thighs and hook into the leg of her black denim cutoffs. Tracer’s hips buck into the touch, another quiet mewl escaping at the scratch of her nails.

“Hands above your head,” she commands next, appreciatively running her eyes down Tracer’s body as her hands obediently lift above her head and rest against the bedspread, crossed at the wrists. Widow gently pets over the front of her shorts and teases her fingers at the waist, easily opening the button with a flick of her wrist.

She drags the zipper down slowly, humming quietly at the faint pressure underneath. “Already so excited?” she asks, cupping her over the half-undone shorts and giving her a squeeze.

Tracer squirms under her, face warm. “You’re _really_ sodding hot. Love it when you tell me what to do.”

Sombra is surprised to hear Widowmaker laugh quietly in response. “So eager,” the assassin teases, reaching into the shorts to squeeze her again.

“Am I ever not with you?” Tracer breathes with a wide grin.

It’s remarkably sweet, sweeter than Sombra had been expecting their relationship to be considering how Widowmaker had described it. She’s unsure if she imagines the faint tinge of purple to Widowmaker’s face once again.

She doesn’t dwell on it for long as Widowmaker tugs Tracer’s shorts down to her thighs, leaving her in a simple pair of briefs... with the Union Jack on them.

Her underwear matches the bedspread.

“Really.” Widowmaker arches a brow and tries not to smile. Sombra stifles a laugh.

Tracer huffs but doesn’t move her hands from their position above her head. “Well I wasn’t expecting the sheets to match! I _like_ this pair.”

“I do too,” Widowmaker admits, running light fingertips over the bulge beneath them. “Very soft. Very you.”

The gentle strokes coax a whimper from Tracer. Sombra swallows harshly as she watches her twitch at Widowmaker’s touch, leaning forward in her seat for a better look. Widowmaker’s eyes slide to the hacker, sparkling with amusement at her obvious interest.

“Sit up and face her, Lena. Legs spread, hands behind your back.”

Tracer settles at the foot of the bed, blushing as she kicks off her shorts and spreads for Sombra’s hungry gaze.

Widowmaker shifts behind her. Her knees rest against either side of her hips while she molds herself to Tracer’s back, chin over her shoulder. She reaches between them, taking Tracer’s hands in one of her own, and presses herself into her palms with a teasing roll of her hips, moaning softly as her lover gives her a greedy squeeze.

Her free hand reaches around to Tracer’s front, stroking up her stomach and tweaking a nipple as she slowly starts to hump her hands. Sombra simply stares, mouth agape at the show, nails biting into the wood.

“Wider, mon amour, let her see,” Widowmaker whispers at her ear, now trailing both hands down to pet at Tracer’s thighs and urge them to spread. Tracer whines, head tilting back against Widow’s shoulder, and spreads her legs even wider. The whines become moans as sharp nails dig into the soft flesh, pulling them wider still until the front of her briefs strain against her crotch.

“Fuck,” Lena gasps, hips twitching as Sombra stares between her legs and licks her lips. Widowmaker’s mouth closes around the shell of her ear, tongue flicking against the piercings as teeth gently bite down.

A hacker has nothing if not a keen eye for loopholes, and Widowmaker's rules never said anything about squirming. Sombra squeezes her thighs together, desperately trying to rub herself against the chair without catching her ire. Widowmaker can't possibly have thought Sombra would just sit there and watch, completely unaffected. And judging by the smirk she flashes as she eyes the outline of Sombra's erection, the blue woman is nice enough to let her get away with it.

One hand remains clawing hot red streaks against Tracer’s tender thigh as the other drifts to the front of her underwear, palming her with a fond sigh against her ear. “Do you want these off, cherie? Do you want to show Sombra your stiff cock?”

“Yes, I want to show her,” Tracer hisses out, blushing brightly. Widowmaker’s hand slips under the waistband, petting at her dick with a pleased hum.

“Already wet,” she murmurs as she tugs her from her underwear, pulling the fabric down past the soft brown patch of hair to show off Tracer’s glistening tip to Sombra, whose mouth begins watering at the sight. Tracer rubs her warm cheek against Widow’s cool face, huffing as her fist starts to slowly travel along her length.

“Don’t I get to touch you too, Am? I’ve missed you,” she whines, giving Widowmaker a warm squeeze with the hands still behind her back. Widow ignores the curious arch of Sombra’s brow at the nickname and presses a kiss to her jaw.

“I thought you already were, ma belle,” she says with another purposeful rock of her hips, grinding herself against her hands. She backs away regardless and gives Tracer a teasing smile. “Underwear off and you may strip me.”

Tracer beams and hurries to wriggle out of her briefs, barely paying mind to the way Sombra’s eyes follow her bouncing member as she shifts to Widowmaker’s side on the bed. She’s much more focused on latching her lips onto Widowmaker’s neck, hot tongue swiping along chilly flesh as she starts unbuttoning her blouse. Her speed speaks to her practice with the garment, soon fully undone and opened to reveal full breasts encased in navy lace.

“Love this one,” Lena mumbles against her throat, both hands eagerly kneading at her chest as she presses herself against the leather of her pants. “I know,” Widowmaker simply responds, raising a hand to bury in soft chestnut hair and fondly pet her.

Tracer tugs one bra cup down to expose an indigo nipple, running her fingers against it until it hardens. She tugs the other cup down to do the same to the other, this time with her lips, and reaches behind her to unsnap her bra entirely.

“You gonna let your hair down?” Tracer looks up at her hopefully, lazily dragging her tongue in a circle around the now-stiff nipple.

“Perhaps,” Widowmaker breezily replies, smiling down at her before flicking her gaze to Sombra. The other girl doesn’t meet her eyes, her own wide as she stares decidedly lower at the obscene stretch of her leather pants. “I think our friend wants you to unzip me now.”

Sombra’s flush is hardly noticeable under her dark skin, but the guilty way her eyes snap back up to Widow’s face says enough.

“Oh yeah?” Tracer smirks and runs her hand down smooth, toned abs to tease just under the waist of Widowmaker’s pants, cheek resting against her shoulder as she looks over at Sombra. “Can’t blame her, I’d be desperate for a peek too.”

She pops the button open with a practiced motion and slowly drags the zipper down, giving a pleased hum at the thick bulge in Widow’s underwear it reveals. Her hand squirms down the front of her tight pants to palm her, coaxing a soft moan from her at the firm touch.

“Dunno how you ever manage to hide this in that suit,” Tracer mutters to herself before peeling Widowmaker’s pants down to her knees to show off the clinging navy lace of her panties to Sombra. The hacker blinks rapidly at the sight, suddenly wondering the same thing herself - she looks like she barely fits in that underwear, nevermind a skintight latex suit.

“Practice,” Widowmaker replies, still petting at Tracer’s hair while flashing a cheshire grin to Sombra. “I’ll admit it’s more difficult when you are near, cherie.”

Tracer gives her a pleased smile as she strokes her through the soft fabric, teasingly pulling the crotch to the side to give Sombra a glimpse of firm skin beneath.

A sharp tug to her hair urges her mouth lower and she kisses back down Widowmaker’s chest, scraping her teeth against a nipple before licking over it. Widowmaker sighs and urges her lower, humming as her mouth wanders to suck a mark onto a prominent hipbone. Garishly painted fingernails slip under her panties and inch them down achingly slowly, and she chases the lowering waistband with her tongue.

Widowmaker keeps herself bare, unsurprisingly, and Sombra’s suspicions are confirmed - the blue goes all the way down. Tracer nuzzles at her base as she finally drags the underwear to her knees. “So hard,” she whispers. “Seems like I’m not the only one gettin’ off on having an audience.”

“Behave,” Widowmaker murmurs with another tug to her hair. Tracer moans and runs her hands up her thighs, sending her a cheeky smile.

“Wasn’t complaining, love. You want my mouth?” She opens her mouth wide, tongue out, and squeezes at a hip. Widowmaker twitches at the sight, but gently closes her mouth for her with a cool hand.

“Mm. Merci mais non. Come back up here.”

Her hand finds the back of Tracer’s neck as she straightens up and pulls her in for another kiss, the other squeezing at her shoulder. They slowly pet down her back after, pausing to squeeze at her hips, before sinking lower to knead at her rear. She pulls her closer to rub their lengths against each other, smiling into the kiss as Tracer moans and bucks against her.

Sombra lets out a low moan of her own as she watches them, squirming in her chair as their fronts press together. It’s even prettier to see in person. She’s throbbing now, a slight damp spot forming at the crotch of her tenting pants.

“God you feel good,” Tracer whispers when their lips part, resting her own hands on Widowmaker’s hips. She leans her head against Widowmaker’s shoulder to look over at Sombra with a smirk. “Guess we’re putting on a nice show.”

“Oh?” Widowmaker looks over as well. Heat rushes through Sombra at their combined stares, her grip on the chair tightening.

“Do you want to see her, ma belle? I do not think she would mind.” She presses a kiss to the top of Tracer’s head as questioning yellow eyes meet Sombra’s. Sombra feels her mouth go dry.

“Yeah, a bit. Bet she’s pretty, for a thief,” Tracer murmurs, blushing.

 _“Salope,”_ Widowmaker affectionately responds with a smirk of her own. “Sombra? Will you let Lena strip you?”

Sombra shivers and slowly remembers how to speak. “Yeah, she can do whatever.”

There’s a flash of blue light and suddenly Tracer is on her knees in front of her, eyes focused between her legs as her fingers hook under the waist of her pants and unceremoniously yank them down. Sombra’s dick springs free and slaps against her stomach, tip sticky and wet, and she moans quietly as Tracer leans in close to examine her.

On the bed, Widowmaker relaxes and casually strokes herself as she watches. A thrill runs through her as Sombra shifts, lifting her hips to help Tracer pull her trousers the rest of the way down and sending her length bobbing perilously close to her girlfriend’s face. An idea strikes her and she stands from the bed and quietly walks up behind Tracer as Sombra gawks at her.

She crouches beside her and runs her hand through the untamable spikes. “Do you want to give Sombra a treat, mon amour? She’s been so good, no?”

“Oh my God,” Sombra whispers. Tracer bites her lip and looks between her twitching length and Widowmaker’s smirk.

“What kind of treat are you thinkin’ about, love?”

Widowmaker keeps petting her hair, scratching at her scalp and enjoying the small shivers that run through Tracer at the action. “Why don’t you take her in your mouth, cherie? And then after that, _I_ can give _you_ a treat.”

She levels her gaze with Sombra, eyes narrowing. “You will keep your hands to yourself and you will not cum, _compris-vous?”_

Sombra throbs. “Understood.”

“Lena?”

“Yeah alright,” the smaller woman breathes. She licks her lips and wraps her hand around the base of Sombra’s dick, leaning in with her tongue out. Widowmaker’s grip on her hair tightens ever so slightly as she watches.

All three of them seem to suck in a quick gasp as Tracer slowly licks over her tip and closes her lips around her. Sombra whimpers and finds herself spreading her legs as Tracer begins to suck, digging her nails into the wood of the chair in her struggle not to reach out and touch. Widowmaker’s hand at the back of Tracer’s head is attractive all on its own, but when she starts guiding her lower onto her length, Sombra can’t help the moan that loudly escapes.

Tracer moans around her in response, eyes shutting as Widowmaker presses her further down. She moans again when her other hand slips between her legs to fondle and squeeze at her balls, ignoring her stiff, throbbing cock entirely.

Widowmaker, for her part, is enjoying the sight of Tracer drooling down Sombra’s shaft at her whim, and the feel of her twitching and tensing underneath her careful fingers. She guides Tracer all the way down, purring as her lips meet Sombra’s skin.

 _“Bonne, bonne fille,”_ Widow softly praises right against her ear. “Swallow.”

She watches her throat move and hears Sombra whimper, a pleased smirk making its way to her lips. Tracer starts to gag and she pulls her up and off at once, admiring the strand of saliva connecting her to Sombra and her flushed, swollen lips as she gasps for air.

“Fuck, Amélie,” Tracer wheezes, eyes squeezing shut again. Widowmaker would be worried if not for the strong twitching in her palm and the wetness beginning to creep down her wrist. She gives her balls a slightly firmer squeeze and smiles as Tracer’s length gives a responding sharp twitch. The hand in her hair guides her into nuzzling at Sombra, rubbing her cheek and mouth all along her length.

“Amélie,” she whimpers again, her face burning even as she slips her tongue out to lick as well.

“Ma bonne salope, you are doing so well.”

Widowmaker presses her back down onto Sombra, pleased at the weak noises they both let out. She takes an even more active role this time, bobbing Tracer up and down her length as her lover obscenely sucks and slurps.

Sombra mumbles quietly in Spanish, her head tilted back and eyes tightly shut, hands fiercely gripping the chair. Widowmaker recognizes a few words and has to stop herself from laughing - Sombra is reciting what appears to be a grocery list to distract herself from cumming. Taking pity on her, she pulls Tracer off of her again.

“You are so _good,_ mon amour,” she murmurs with a kiss to her cheek. “On your back, ma bonne fille. I will reward you.”

As Tracer settles on her back on the floor, Widowmaker takes her hair down from her standard high ponytail and lets the inky purple waves pour down her back. Sombra doesn’t think she’s ever seen her with her hair down in person, but she can see why Tracer was so eager for it.

“Yesss,” Tracer hisses out with an excited grin. “You’re so beautiful, Amélie.”

Widowmaker pushes her hair to the side with a gentle smile as she leans down and settles between Tracer’s legs. “Merci.”

It’s all she says before grabbing her by the base and slowly squeezing her fist up her length, placing delicate kisses along her thighs that drift higher and higher. Tracer spreads automatically and reaches out to pet at Widowmaker’s hair, helpfully holding it aside to let Sombra watch her mouth work between her legs.

She gives Tracer slow, firm tugs as she starts lapping at her tip, circling her tongue around the slit and sweeping along the underside. Her lips close around her head and she briefly sucks with a quiet groan, still squeezing up and down her length.

It’s a pretty standard blowjob right up until Widowmaker sinks down to her base in one smooth motion, keeping her there as she swallows around her again and again. She remains as calm as ever while Tracer loses her composure entirely, gasping for air and moaning loudly when Widowmaker pushes her knees up to her chest.

“Am, Amélie,” she pants, face pinching as she struggles to get herself together.

“Mmm?” Widowmaker curiously hums around her, letting out a pleased moan when Tracer tugs a little harder at her hair and whines.

“I’m-- _bollocks_ I’m close. Amélie, come on, it’s-- we’ve barely started, love, come on-- _shit, don’t hum like that you awful, awful woman.”_

Widowmaker laughs and it seems to put Tracer in agony. Just when Sombra is afraid she might start crying, Widow backs off with a slow suck up her length. Tracer’s cock wetly slaps onto her stomach when she finally releases it, deeply flushed and obviously pulsing, and Tracer lets out a deep sigh of relief as precum dribbles down her chest.

Not that Widowmaker is giving her any reprieve.

Her mouth settles around her balls instead, kissing and sucking at the delicate skin. “Fuck, Amélie,” Tracer whimpers, head tossing to the side as she licks over and between them, squirming in her grip.

She squeaks as Widow pulls away to nuzzle, hips jolting. “Your nose is bloody _cold,”_ she whines.

Widowmaker doesn’t acknowledge her complaint, instead spreading her wide and teasing her tongue against Tracer’s hole.

It shuts her up pretty fast.

Her mouth falls open with a soundless cry as it presses into her. Sombra sucks in a sharp breath.

She lifts Tracer’s legs up higher, high enough that her hips no longer touch the floor as she licks at her, and sends Sombra a smug glance from between her legs. Tracer pants, hands dropping to the ground to dig her nails into the carpet, and manages to find her voice once more.

“Shit, _fuck,_ Amélie, that feels so _good,”_ she whines breathlessly. “More, please, _more!”_

To her disappointment, Widowmaker pulls away from her yet again and sets her back down on the floor with a squeeze to her thighs. “I’m not going to fuck you on the floor, cherie. It hurt your back last time,” she says as she gets to her knees, then stands and offers her a hand up.

“The rug burn was worth it,” Tracer responds with a grin, though gratefully takes the helping hand.

 _“Non._ On the bed while I prepare. Face her and play with yourself.”

Tracer obediently takes her place at the foot of the bed once again, pouting as Widowmaker walks to the nearby bathroom. It immediately falls off her face at the look Sombra is giving her - needy, hungry, with sweat beginning to dampen her skin. Tracer smirks and teases her hands down her body, knees spreading wide.

“Enjoying the show?” she asks, scratching up her own thighs. Sombra purses her lips and doesn’t respond.

Tracer’s hand wraps around her length and starts to slowly stroke.

“Wasn’t too sure about doing this at first when Amélie originally brought it up, but she was right - this _has_ been fun.” She licks at the fingers of her other hand and brings them to her head, rubbing at the sensitive skin with a moan. Sombra feels her tongue turn to sand as she watches.

“Could’ve guessed you were a pervert, poking your nose into other people’s business like you do.” Her smirk widens to a grin as she leans back onto the bed on one hand, using the other to run light fingertips from her balls to tip and back.

“Maybe next time we could play around a bit more with you.”

“Already planning a next time, mon amour?” Widowmaker teases as she enters the room again. They both look over to find her rolling a condom down to her base, a small bottle of lubrication in hand. Tracer beams.

“Maybe. This has been brilliant so far. How do you want me, love?” Tracer makes to get up, but Widow keeps her where she is with a hand on her shoulder and kneels onto the bed behind her. She gives her a gentle push onto her side with a small smirk.

“This will work. We want our guest to see, no?”

She uncaps the bottle to pour some onto her fingers before tossing it aside, then lifts one of Tracer’s legs up by the knee to spread her. Tracer whines as cool fingers slickly rub over her hole and reaches up to take over holding herself open.

 _“Merci,”_ Widowmaker murmurs, using her now free hand to absently fondle the smaller girl’s dick while she starts working her fingers into her. Two slip in easily and are quickly joined by a third.

Heat flushes through Tracer as she watches Sombra watch them - she’s biting her lip, the muscles in her arms straining as she grips the chair tightly, and she’s beginning to drip down her shaft.

The fingers inside her curve and curl as they thrust, forcing a breathy moan from her as they grind against a spot that makes her buck into Widowmaker’s hand. She whines when they pull free, but feels the bed dip behind her as Widow shifts to straddle her other leg, one foot on the ground for traction.

She looks down to see her slicking herself up and angling against her. Warmth prods at her, then starts to carefully press into her. Tracer lets out a weak noise and does her best to relax as her head slips in.

“You’re so good, cherie,” Widowmaker whispers, pressing deeper. “My pretty little Lena. So tight and warm.” She pauses halfway into her and pulls back, then slowly starts to thrust, working herself deeper.

Sombra licks her lips as she watches, eyes darting from place to place. Her gaze drags from Widowmaker’s fond smile down to her tensing stomach as she thrusts, hungrily taking in the sight of her entering Tracer over and over again. She looks to the hand still groping at Tracer’s length up to where her breasts bounce from the successively harder rocking, then to her face, hot and red and open-mouthed as she pants.

It’s getting harder not to touch herself.

“Tell her how it feels, Lena,” Widowmaker murmurs with a sharp snap of her hips that makes her lover cry out. “Let her know what you like.”

“Ah, aah, _good,”_ she breathes in response, eyes squeezing shut as Widow’s slick hand begins jerking her off in earnest.

“You’ll have to do better than that, ma douce.” Her hips steadily roll against Tracer’s, sinking all the way to the base now with slow and even strokes.

Tracer’s nails dig into her thigh as Widowmaker’s fist tightens around her tip. She licks her lips and struggles to communicate. “Aah, s’good. Big, hhf, _deep._ Ah, bit chilly. Shit, Amélie, I’m so wet. Faster, _please.”_

Sombra looks over to where Widowmaker tugs at her. Heat floods through her at the sight of Tracer dribbling precum over her knuckles with every squeeze.

It’s getting _really_ hard not to touch herself.

Before she can even think of how to covertly play with herself, Widowmaker turns to look right at her. Her eyes flick down to where Sombra twitches and throbs. She smirks.

“You may touch yourself, but you will not finish before she does. Compris?”

“Por fin, mierda,” Sombra says under her breath, both hands immediately diving between her legs. Her head tips back with a soft moan as her fist seals around her tip and squeezes, the other hand cupping her balls and gently petting. She hears Tracer whimper and returns her gaze to the pair on the bed, quietly moaning when she sees the both of them watching her intently.

Widowmaker begins rocking into Tracer faster, harder, the hand at her length moving in tandem. Tracer struggles to keep her eyes open, loudly moaning as Widow starts to slam into her.

“Close,” Tracer pants out. Widowmaker’s free hand pets up her hip to grope at her chest as well.

“Would you like to make this last, Lena? Or do you want to cum?” Widowmaker asks, barely slowing the rocks of her hips.

“Let me cum,” she begs in response. “Please, please, let me cum!”

Sombra curses and squeezes herself tightly, gritting her teeth as she waits for Tracer to reach her peak first. Her heart races and sweat trickles down her spine, the pressure nearly overwhelming, but she keeps to her word.

Widowmaker resumes her humping with a vengeance. Tracer lets out weak, breathy noises with every thrust, chest heaving under Widow’s talented fingers, and squeezes her eyes shut.

“That’s it, cherie. Let Sombra see what a needy, messy girl you are,” Widowmaker purrs out. Tracer flushes brightly and lets out a long, loud moan as her hips buck into Widow’s hand, the first few spurts of her release shooting up her chest and painting over the sheets. Her toes curl as Widowmaker refuses to stop, body shaking and twitching uncontrollably.

Sombra barely lets out a whimper as she follows Tracer over the edge. She struggles to continue watching as her hips jerk into her hand, runny warmth pulsing over her stomach and dribbling over her fingers.

She manages to keep her eyes open long enough to watch as Widowmaker gives a final thrust into Tracer, burying inside of her and grinding with a shudder. Her dark lips part and Sombra catches only the faintest of moans, more of an exhalation than noise. It seems to spark an aftershock in Tracer, who jerks against her with a whimper before relaxing bonelessly.

“Fuck,” she sighs out. Sombra mentally echoes the sentiment as she slumps back in her chair.

She’s barely managed to catch her breath when she hears Widowmaker speak once more.

“You may leave.”

Her eyes flutter open to find Widowmaker not even looking at her as she carefully pulls out of Tracer and gently rubs at her hip. Tracer glances over to Sombra, then frowns up at her lover.

“She already knows we’re shagging, Am, don’t think it’s too big of a deal if she learns you like a bit of a cuddle after.”

This time, there’s no mistaking Widowmaker’s violet flush. Sombra only raises an eyebrow.

“Anyway, got the shower kitted out if you wanted a wash before you leave,” she continues to Sombra as Widowmaker peels off the condom and tosses it in the trash, still blushing. “Know not everyone’s comfy with a mess.”

Tracer sits up, wincing slightly, and runs her fingers over her chest to collect the wetness coating it, popping them into her mouth to clean after. Sombra quietly curses at the sight. She looks down at herself, grimaces at the mess she made, and reaches for her pants.

“I appreciate it. I think I’ll take you up on that,” she says as she stands, politely ignoring the sweet way Widowmaker has started to wrap around Tracer. “I’ll get out of your hair after.”

As she heads to the bathroom, she hears a murmur followed by Tracer giggling softly.

“We should do this again, Sombra,” Tracer calls out before she closes the door behind her. She glances over to the two of them with a curious look. Widowmaker begins pressing gentle kisses over Tracer’s jaw as she pulls her into her lap, arms snug around her.

“Yeah?”

“We had fun,” Tracer explains with a wide smile, absently tilting her head and petting at Widowmaker. “Maybe next time you’d like more of an active role? If you’d like.”

“... I’ll think about it,” Sombra says, giving them a rare honest smile in return. Tracer grins back at her.

As Sombra closes the door to the bathroom and begins to run the shower, she hears another faint murmur followed by a quiet reply of, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey you made it to the end wasn't that gay and sappy?  
> ok thanks for reading!!!!
> 
> possum - Today at 3:56 AM  
> hey there's a term for consensually not being allowed to touch yourself right  
> bunny - Today at 3:58 AM  
> chastity?  
> possum - Today at 3:58 AM  
> hm i mean technically yeah  
> bunny - Today at 3:58 AM  
> is it long term or very short term as in  
> don't touch yourself while I'm doing this sexy thing  
> possum - Today at 3:58 AM  
> very short term yeah  
> bunny - Today at 3:58 AM  
> because yeah I guess that's not chastity huh that's just  
> teasing  
> or  
> handcucking  
> possum - Today at 3:58 AM  
> i'm sticking i  
> don't ever say that again  
> i'm sticking it under mild domination  
> bunny - Today at 3:58 AM  
> it's definitely handcucking


End file.
